


Beer, Whine, and Lifted Spirits

by TeddysHoney



Series: You and Me Plus Puckerman Spells Family [3]
Category: Glee
Genre: Age Play, Ice Cream, M/M, Reading, Seat Belts, Spanking, Time Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:21:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22154710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeddysHoney/pseuds/TeddysHoney
Summary: Noah's been promised a prize at the grocery store, and the one thing that he really wants is strictly off limits. How will Daddy and Papa respond to his decision that this is completely NOT fair?
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel, Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel/Noah Puckerman
Series: You and Me Plus Puckerman Spells Family [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1059878
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	Beer, Whine, and Lifted Spirits

Noah was feeling particularly grumpy. Papa had dragged him to the grocery store. Again. This was like the millionth time in the past week they'd had to go. First, it had been for Thanksgiving dinner; now, it was for supplies for Christmas cookies. Daddy and Papa were still making him eat frozen Thanksgiving leftovers which was super not fair. In fact, it was making him a downright crab. But, he'd been promised a treat at the grocery store today if he was good and ate his dinner last night, which he had. So, he'd been just the tiniest bit excited to go grocery shopping again. Everything he picked out, though, Papa was saying 'no' to, and Noah had had just about enough. He stomped along next to the cart, glaring at everything in their path. “'s not fair!” he muttered under his breath. “'s not fair!”

“I'm sorry you feel that way,” Kurt said, grabbing a loaf of bread and putting it in the cart. He'd remembered that they were nearly out from all the turkey sandwiches they'd been eating. “You know that you're not allowed to have a bunch of candy and cookies, though. We're going to be starting our Christmas baking soon, and there will be plenty of sugary things for you at home.”

“Chips aren't sugar,” Noah tried, pointing at the bags they were passing by.

“No, but you can't have an entire family size bag to yourself. If you'd like chips, you can get one of the single serving bags.” Papa was happy to see that Noah was okay with the compromise, racing to the rack with the small bags. 

Noah thought for a minute, going over the choices carefully. Nothing looked really good. There were Doritos, but Papa wouldn't let him get the spicy ones that he liked because they gave him heartburn. It was the same problem with the Cheetos. Funyuns were icky, so all that left were the plain old Lays. He didn't want regular potato chips, so he stomped back to the cart where Papa was loading up on frozen vegetables, something else they'd run out of when Daddy made turkey pot pie. “Papa,” he whined quietly so no one would hear, “there were no good chips!”

Kurt spared a glance in his direction before going back to the vegetables. “I'm sorry, sweetheart. I guess you'll just have to pick something else.”

Sighing dramatically, Noah looked around the grocery store. They were almost to the checkout lines, and if he didn't find something quick, Papa wouldn't get him anything. Just as he was about to give up and beg Papa to let him get candy at the register, he spotted a sign over a special part of the store that read, “Beer, Wine, and Spirits.” A happy little smile came over Noah's face. “Papa?” he asked quietly, tugging gently at Kurt's sleeve. “Can I get a beer?” He pointed to the sign hanging from the ceiling.

Swallowing hard, Kurt shook his head. He hated to keep saying 'no' to Noah; their boy had earned a treat. He'd been very good over the past few days, eating Thanksgiving leftovers for every meal, even though he claimed they were nasty, and he was tired of them. He may not have eaten them graciously, but he ate them. Alcohol was something he and Blaine had agreed on from the beginning; Noah had an addictive personality, and it was better to not give him too much of anything he could become addicted to. That included TV time, much to the little boy's chagrin.

“But, Pap--”

“No 'buts,' little boy,” Kurt whispered, leaning over the cart so he could speak directly into Noah's ear. The last thing he wanted was a tantrum at the grocery store. “You know that Daddy and I have a rule about alcohol. It hasn't changed.” Deciding that the best way to keep them from a total meltdown was to give Noah a few choices, Kurt said, “You can pick a toy or a small bag of chips for your treat. If you don't want to do either one of those, you can wait to get a treat until next time.”

Well, that was certainly not okay with Noah. He wanted something good, and Papa was being mean about it. “I don't like you!” he sassed in a harsh whisper. He didn't want anyone else to hear him, but he wanted to be sure Papa knew. “You're mean an'...an' awful, an' I hate you!”

“That's enough!” Papa said sharply, fixing him with a look. “We are going to check out, and we're going home right now. If you don't straighten up, you're looking at a time out when we get home.”

“No!” Noah stomped.

Kurt ignored him, pushing the cart up to the closest register and beginning to unload. He hoped that Noah wouldn't completely melt down until they got to the car; a public tantrum would be hard to deal with, especially around people that didn't understand their particular dynamic. He unloaded their groceries onto the belt as quickly as he could, praying that the cashier would hurry things along so they could get out to the car. He could tell from the way that Noah was stomping, pouting, and kicking at the wheels of the cart that he was going to explode as soon as he felt safe enough to do so. Impatiently shifting from foot to foot, Kurt shot off a quick text to Blaine. “Noah's mad at me. Probably going to tantrum in the car.”

The cashier smiled widely at Kurt as she told him his total. Hurriedly, Kurt pulled some bills from his wallet, thrusting them at her and telling her to keep the 16 cents she owed him in change. He grabbed their bags quickly, shoving them back into the cart and guiding it and his irate Noah into the parking lot. “Get into the car, please,” he told Noah. “Back seat.”

“What?” Noah sputtered, indignant that Papa would force him into the back seat when he hadn't even done anything wrong. This was the final straw on a long list of injustices that day, and Noah had had enough. “No!” he screeched, not caring who heard him now. “No! Not the back seat! Not the back seat!I didn't do anyfing, and you're mean!”

His big boy speech was starting to slip, and his voice was getting louder and louder. So, Kurt opened the back door and took Noah's hands, pushing him into the back seat much like a cop would put a criminal into a cop car. “Put your seat belt on,” he instructed, shutting the door. He quickly threw open the trunk and shoved the groceries inside.

All the while, Noah was hollering at the top of his lungs. He felt more confident now that they were in the car, and he was giving his tantrum all he had. “NO!” he continued to shout. “No! No! NO! 'm not gonna wear a sea'belt! 'm not gonna sit inna back! You're mean! You're mean! I don' yike you!”

Kurt got into the driver's seat, slamming the door behind him. He turned around to give his charge a glare. “You need to calm down, little boy,” he said, knowing that this command would do him absolutely not good. “You are causing a scene and behaving very poorly. It's okay to be mad, but it is not okay to yell and scream or tell me you hate me. You're going to be a very sorry little boy when we get home if you don't put your seat belt on and behave yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, waiting for Noah to reply.

Unfortunately for Papa, his Noah was too far gone to be reasoned with. The injustices of eating Thanksgiving leftovers combined with not finding a good prize and over exhaustion from the holiday were all coming together to form the perfect Mega-Noah-Storm. So, he continued to yell and scream at the top of his lungs about all of the things that were wrong with his life. He was becoming more and more hysterical, too, thrashing his arms around and kicking at the seats. Kurt was glad for the tented windows that would hide some of the tantrum from any prying eyes that happened past.

Deciding his best option would be to try to put Noah's seat belt on him and let him finish is tantrum, Kurt gulped before leaning over the center console and wrapping the strap around his little boy, clicking it into place securely. This made Noah angry, and Papa received many smacks as his boy continued to flail and scream. Kurt simply added it to the list of things they'd have to discuss when they got home. He fixed Noah with his best Papa Look and said, “I had better not catch you unbuckling that seat belt until we get home. If you do, I'm going to spank your bottom.” He prayed he wouldn't have to follow through with that threat, turning around starting the car.

Just as he was pulling out of the parking space, his cell phone rang. Thankfully, it was Blaine, and Kurt answered it from car's Bluetooth. “Hey,” he said, not trying to hide the exasperation in his voice.

“How's it going?” Blaine asked.

“You tell me,” Kurt replied tersely. “I know you can hear him.”

There was silence on the line for a moment, then, “What started the tantrum?”

“He was picking out everything he knew he couldn't have for a prize. Anything I'd say yes to wasn't good enough. And, right before we got to the checkout, he asked for beer.”

Blaine sighed. “Well, that explains it.”

When Noah heard Daddy's voice over the car speakers, he'd slowed his tantrum a bit, quieting his voice so he could hear what the grownups were talking about. When he discovered they were talking about him, however, he quickly escalated again. “No!” he yelled, kicking the back of Papa's seat with butterfly kicks. “No talkin' 'bout me! You're mean! You're both mean!” Then, sticking his chin out defiantly, he reached down and unhooked his seat belt with an audible “click.”

Kurt saw red. That was the one thing he'd expressly told Noah not to do, and he'd done it. He'd done it anyway. Kurt took a few deep breaths to calm himself, slowly pulling over to the side of the road and turned on his hazzard lights. Turning around, he looked sternly at Noah. “Young man,” he said, his voice calm. Too calm. “You need to put your seat belt on right. Now. When we get home, you will go straight to timeout. Then, you're getting a spanking.”

At the sound of Papa's scary voice, Noah stopped yelling immediately. He watched Papa carefully, his eyes wide. Oh no. He'd done it. He'd gone too far, and now, he was in big, big trouble. Hearing his punishment so clearly pronounced, he let out a little whimper. “Please no spankin',” he whispered as he put on his seat belt again.

Papa ignored the plea, simply turning back around in his seat and putting the car back into gear. 

Daddy said, “Noah, don't argue with Papa. It sounds to me like you've more than earned your punishment. You know better than to behave that way. I'll see you guys when you get home, Kurt,” he added and hung up the phone.

At that, Noah burst into noisy tears. Daddy and Papa were mad. Worse than that, he could hear the disappointment ringing in Daddy's voice. Dis'ppointed was worse than mad. Mad was how you felt about what somebody did. Dis'ppointed was how you felt 'bout a person, and maybe acuz Daddy was dis'ppointed, he'd make Noah go away forever. The idea of leaving his Daddy and his Papa forever made him cry even harder. He didn't wanna leave. He liked being little. He liked having people who loved him and cared about him. He didn't even mind the diapers anymore, although he was wearing fewer of them now. He didn't want to go back to being his old self, lonely and sad. He wanted to stay. “Papa,” he tried, glancing at the upset man in the rearview mirror.

“Noah, I'd like for you to sit quietly in the back seat,” he replied. “We're almost home, and I'd like you to think about the consequences of your behavior, please.”

Papa didn't want to talk to him. Noah buried his face in his hands and sobbed. This was turning out to be a horrible day.

When they got home, Daddy was standing next to their assigned parking space in the garage, hands on his hips. He opened Noah's car door, ready to haul their naughty boy out of the car and take him into the apartment. At the site of him, however, Daddy's body language immediately changed, pulling the sobbing boy into a tight hug. “What's the matter, sweetheart?” he whispered. “What's got you so upset?” He rubbed gently at Noah's back.

It took a while before Noah was calm enough to talk. Even then, his words came out in choppy sentences as he sniffled and huffed in air. “You-you're maaaaad,” he wailed, face tucked into Daddy's shoulder.

“I'm unhappy with how you acted at the grocery store for Papa,” Daddy agreed.

“A-a-an' di-dis-dis'poi-ointed,” the little boy hiccuped.

“I'm disappointed that you would throw a tantrum,” Daddy said, nodding at Kurt as pointed to the bags of groceries in his arms and then toward the stairs to the apartments. Daddy accepted the car keys but stayed where he was.

At hearing that Daddy was, in fact, disappointed, Noah's tears started all over again. He scrambled to get a good hold on Daddy's clothing, grabbing fistfuls of shirt and holding on tight so the man wouldn't leave him.

“Noah,” Blaine said, surprised, “what's the matter, my baby? What's got you so upset?”

But, Noah could barely breathe, let alone talk, and he just continued to sob, keeping a tight grip on Daddy.

Blaine pulled his little boy tighter against his body and rocked them back and forth for several long moments. “Shhh,” he whispered over and over. “Shh, sweetheart. It's okay. Everything's going to be fine.” He waited patiently for the tears to stop, never moving from Noah's side or stopping his slow rocking.

Finally, Noah began to sniffle, turning his head so he could get more air into his aching lungs.

“Feel better now?” Daddy asked.

Noah shook his head.

“No? Why not?” Daddy wanted to know.

“Papa mad?” Noah wanted to know, peering up at Daddy with one eye.

“Papa's not mad. He just didn't like your behavior.”

“He wouldn' talk to me...”

“That doesn't mean he's mad,” Blaine tried to reassure him.

Noah wasn't having any of it. “He mad...” He hung his head sadly.

“Would it make you feel better if we asked him?” Blaine asked, shifting them a little so he could look his boy in the eyes.

Noah nodded. “Daddy carry?”

Blaine glanced around the parking garage. Normally, he wouldn't consider ever trying to carry Noah outside of the house. They didn't exactly make a normal picture, what with Noah being an adult and at least a foot taller than Blaine. But, this time, since no one was around to stare at them, Daddy decided it would be okay. “I'll carry you,” he agreed, stepping out of the car and reaching his hands out for his little boy who slid into them gratefully.

When they arrived in the apartment, they found Papa sitting on the couch in the living room, reading a book. Daddy set Noah down on his feet and patted him in Papa's direction gently. Quietly, cautiously, Noah padded toward Papa, stopping a few feet away. “Papa?” he asked.

Kurt put his book down. “Yes, my Noah?” He had calmed down a bit and wasn't feeling nearly so upset at Noah. In fact, he was dreading handing out the spanking he'd promised the little boy.

“Are mad?” Noah wanted to know, not coming any closer. His fingers fiddled with the hem of his shirt, his eyes not meeting Papa's.

Kurt's heart broke. “Come here, sweetheart,” he said, snagging the boy's wrist and pulling him toward the couch. He patted the cushion next to him. “Come sit down.” He waited until the boy was snuggled closely into his side before talking again, pushing some wayward hair out of Noah's face. “I'm not mad at you,” he said. “Papa could never be mad at you. I don't like that you threw a tantrum, and I don't like that you didn't use your words with me. But, I'm not mad.”

“Are dis'pointed?” Noah wanted to know. He grabbed one of Papa's hands, playing with his fingers as he waited for the answer.

Papa thought for a moment. He felt that there must be a reason that Noah was asking about it; it must mean something important. “What does being disappointed mean to you, Noah?” he asked, tilting the boy's chin up until they made eye contact.

“Um,” Noah thought, trying to figure out how to explain. “Mad is how you feel 'bout actions. Dis'pointed is how you feel 'bout people.”

“So, you want to know if I'm disappointed in you?” Papa clarified.

Noah nodded, looking away again. He was afraid to know the answer.

“Oh, my Noah,” Kurt said, his stomach knotting. “I'm not disappointed in you, baby. I'm disappointed with the choices that you made, but that's not the same thing as being disappointed in you. Do you understand that?” he asked.

Tears welled in Noah's eyes. “You is dis'pointed,” he said, fighting hard to keep from crying again.

“Being disappointed in your actions means that I wish you would have picked a different way to express your anger. It doesn't mean that I don't love you anymore,” Kurt replied gently. “There's a big difference, sweetheart.”

“You gon' make me yeave?” he wanted to know, silent tears running down his cheeks.

“Noah, I never want you to leave. Not ever,” Papa said. “I love you so much, and I always want you to be here with me.” He pulled the boy close, peppering kisses on the top of his head.

That was all it took to topple Noah over the edge. “Daddy dis'pointed,” he admitted. “He make me yeave.” Saying the words out loud took the last of his control, and he covered his face with his arms, turning away from Papa to sob into the couch cushions.

Daddy was on his knees in front of his boy in a flash, holding on tightly to Noah's arm as the boy cried. “I don't want you to leave, Noah!” he exclaimed, hoping the boy could hear him over his tears. “I love you so, so much, and I would be very, very sad if you ever left. I'm not disappointed in you; I'm just sad that you made poor choices. I could never, ever, ever send you away. I promise. I love you.”

Noah heard Daddy's words, and he wanted to believe him. But believing was hard. So, he continued to cry into his arms, not looking at either man. After a minute or two, he felt himself be shifted, felt two sets of strong arms wrap around his body, heard tiny, soft whispers in his ears, and felt gentle kisses on his cheeks and hair. He tried to focus on the love he was being given to quiet his tears, but it still look a long time for the crying to stop and sniffling to take its place.

“That was a lot of sad, my Noah,” Daddy murmured after a while. “Here.” He rubbed something cold and plastic against Noah's hot, puffy cheeks. “Drink some water. You'll feel better.”

Noah slowly sat up. His head was pounding from all the crying, and his throat felt as though he'd been in the desert for weeks. With shaky hands, he accepted the cup from Daddy and took several deep, long pulls, thankful for he icy water.

“Feel better?” Papa asked, brushing some damp hair back from his face.

“S'eeby,” Noah responded around the sippy.

“I bet you're tired. That was a lot of crying,” Daddy said. “Can we talk about what made you so sad?”

Feeling only a little more in control than he had before, Noah said as plainly as he could, “I was bad atta store. You an' Papa was dis'pointed. And when dat happens, Noah hasta yeave.”

“You weren't bad. You just made a bad choice. Who said that you have to leave?”

Noah shrugged. “Nobody sayed it. Jus' happens.”

“Sweetheart, I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Papa said, tipping Noah's chin up to look at him. “Daddy and I are never going to ask you to leave. Not ever. We love having our Noah here, and we don't ever want you to go away. Even if we get upset about something you did, we won't ever make you leave. You might be in trouble. You might not like your punishment, but you can always stay here. Do you know why?”

Noah shook his head. He might know why, but he didn't want to say it out loud.

“Because Papa and I love you,” Daddy cut in. “We love you so much, and we're so happy that you came to live with us. We would never want anything to happen to you. Do you understand.”

Noah nodded. He waited for a few minutes, drinking some more from his sippy cup. When no one said anything else, he scooted off the couch and walked toward his timeout corner. “'m 'posed to be in timeout,” he explained.

“That's a very good boy,” Papa praised. He followed Noah to the corner and helped him sit down, facing the wall. “I'm going to go refill your cup. You stay in timeout and think about your choices, please.”

“'kay, Papa. 'm good now.”

“You're always good,” Papa said, kissing the top of his head. “I'll be right back.”

Noah thought, just like he'd been told to. He realized that it probably hadn't been a good idea to throw a tantrum in the grocery store. His cheeks colored as he wondered how many people had seen him stomping around and kicking the cart. Then, he thought about how naughty it had been to kick the seats in the car. It wasn't very respectful to Daddy and Papa to break their stuff, he knew. They'd talked about that. He cringed the most at the thought of unbuckling himself in the car, though. That had been the worst thing he could have done. Daddy and Papa took safety very seriously. They didn't want anything to happen to their Noah, they had told him. And unbuckling his seat belt meant that he could get really hurt if Papa had gotten into a car accident.

Pretty soon, Papa was back with his water. “Drink this, please,” he instructed, placing the cup back in Noah's hand. “I'll let you know when it's time to come out.” 

“'kay,” Noah whispered, already feeling very, very guilty for what he had done. He didn't want a spankin' but he knew he deserved one. He'd been very naughty.

Thankfully, Papa was kind, not making Noah wallow in his guilt for too long before he called the little boy over. “Come here, please, Noah,” he said patiently. “I want to talk about what happened.”

Noah had to concentrate really hard not to roll his eyes. He didn't like talking about what happened.

“Can you tell me why you're getting a spanking?” Papa asked when the boy was standing between his knees.

“Acuz I undo'd my seat belt,” Noah whispered, staring at his feet.

“That's right. Do you know why that's not okay?”

“Is not safe.”

“That's my good boy. What else happened in the car?” Papa wanted to know.

Noah didn't understand why he had to tell him since he'd been right there in the car, too, but he said, “I frow'd a big fit acuz you said no beer.”

“That's right,” Papa said again. He gently reached out and tilted Noah's eyes up to meet his own. “Do you understand why we have rules, Noah?”

“Uh huh.”

“We have rules to keep you safe. Daddy and I don't make rules to be mean. We've talked about why it's not a good idea to have beer, and we've talked about why we have to always wear our seat belts in the car. Do you remember those talks?”

“Yeah...”

“Okay. So, do you know why I have to spank your bottom?”

Noah nodded glumly. He knew, but he didn't like it.

“Good boy, sweetheart,” Papa praised. He quickly pulled down Noah's pants and the big boy underwear he'd been allowed to put on that morning. Then, he guided the boy over his lap, rubbing his bottom for a few moments as he said, “I don't like to spank you, Noah. I don't like hurting you.” With that, he raised his hand and brought it down with a sharp smack on Noah's round cheeks.

Since he was already feeling guilty, it didn't take long for the weight of what was happening to settle on Noah's conscience. He wiggled and squirmed from the beginning, crying much sooner than he normally did. He was sorry. He was sorry he'd been naughty and unsafe, and he just wanted Daddy and Papa to love him again.

Papa wanted that, too. He spanked for as long as he could stand to listen to Noah cry, which wasn't very long. Much sooner than normal, he was rubbing at his boy's back, telling him what a good job he'd done at that the spanking was over.

Noah jumped up, wrapping his arms tightly around Papa's neck. “Sorry I was naughty, Papa,” he breathed into Papa's neck. “Sorry.”

“You're forgiven now,” Kurt reassured him. “It's all over. Punishment's done.” He rocked Noah for a few minutes as the boy stood in front of him, clinging to him for comfort. After a few minutes, he said, “Sweetheart?”

Noah lifted his teary face to meet Papa's eyes.

“Do you think you could cuddle up with Daddy? Papa needs a shower.” Kurt desperately wanted to wash off the icky feelings he was carrying around from having to spank Noah. A shower always helped him feel lighter and more focused.

“I'm a good cuddler,” Daddy offered from across the room on the love seat. He held out his arms to the boy. “Come here.”

Noah came running, wrapping his arms around Daddy's neck in a tight hug.

Kurt rose, grabbing Noah's underwear and tossing them to Blaine as he walked by. “Get him dressed for me?” he asked with the hint of a smile.

“Sure,” Daddy said, smiling back. Enjoy your shower.” He allowed Noah to hug him for a few minutes before he tapped his shoulder. “Let's get this underwear on you, naked boy.”

Noah giggled at that. Daddy was funny sometimes, and his smile was contagious. He hissed for just a moment when the underwear touched his sore cheeks, settling with a deep, contented sigh into Daddy's lap.

“So, no prize at the grocery store today, huh?” Daddy asked, tickling at his sides.

“Nuh uh,” Noah replied. “Nuffing was good.”

“Papa wouldn't let you get candy, would he? I bet he would have let you get broccoli!” He poked Noah's tummy, chuckling as the boy turned to him with wide eyes.

“Ew, Daddy!” Noah exclaimed. “Broccoli is not a prize! Is a punishment!” He pooched out his bottom lip and gave Daddy his best sad puppy eyes for effect.

“My poor Noah. You've suffered so much injustice today, haven't you?” 

“Uh huh. 'm the saddest Noah.” He pouted some more.

“Well, do you know what I like to do with sad Noahs?” Daddy asked, a mischievous look glinting in his eyes.

“No! Daddy, no!” Noah hollered, already knowing where this was going. He tried to wiggle out of Daddy's grip, but he wasn't quick enough.

“I like to tickle them!” Blaine shouted. “Attack of the tickle monster!” He ran his fingers up and down Noah's sides quickly, eliciting shrieks of laughter from the little boy.

“Daddy! Stop! Stop!” Noah begged, tears of laughter coming to his eyes this time. “'m gonna cry 'gain!”

“Oh. Well, I can't have that,” Daddy said, stopping the tickling. “You know what always stops tears?” he asked, leaning in as if he was going to tell the panting boy a secret.

Noah shook his head. “What?”

“Ice cream! Come on! Let's eat it all while Papa's in the shower!”

So, when Papa came out of the bathroom ten minutes later, his hair damp, he found his two favorite boys curled up in the love seat, eating ice cream. “Am I invited to the ice cream party?” he asked, pretending to be hurt.

“You gots tears?” Noah asked. “Daddy sayed ice cream stops tears.”

Kurt nodded, pretending to cry.

“Then come on!” Noah said, beckoning Papa over. “Is room for my Papa, too!” When Kurt came over, Noah crowded onto Daddy's lap, waiting until Kurt was situated to spread out over both of them. “See? Is room for my Daddy, my Papa, and Noah.”

“I see,” Daddy agreed, eyeing Papa over the boy's head. Maybe they needed to put something like this into the baby's room.

“I have a surprise for you, Noah,” Papa said, pulling out his Kindle from the drawer in the side table. “Since you didn't get a treat at the grocery store, I downloaded that new book for you that you've been wanting to read.”

Noah bounced excitedly on Daddy's leg. “Book Wif No Pi'tures?” he checked. At Papa's nod, he whooped. “Fank you, Papa!” he shouted over and over. “Fank you, fank you, fank you!” He hugged Papa tight and squeezed.

“You're entirely welcome, sweetheart,” Papa said, giving him a smooch on the cheek.

“Read!” Noah demanded, settling in a bit more. He opened his mouth to Daddy demanding, “Bite!”

“What do you say?” Daddy and Papa asked in unison.

“Please?”

“Okay,” Daddy chuckled, spoon feeding Noah a bite of ice cream.

“'This is a book with no pictures,'” Papa began.

Noah smiled happily. This was easily one of his most favorite ways to spend the day.


End file.
